Sometimes I want to clean my life for the hell of it, the thrill of responsibility. Sometimes I clobber myself to thinking I needed to do something for a future, a worthwhile life, a legacy to leave behind. Sometimes I groom myself emotionally and physically for a day, and for what? Six hours later, drenched wet, going home empty-handed, and another illusion of having done a socially-acceptable lifestyle. That I prove to others I have no sociopathic tendencies. That I am ordinary, that I mingle for the sake of mingling. Because life is like that, ever so clingy to worldly favours. One's self is never enough, they say.

Some say that no one man is an island. I beg to differ, some are indeed islands. Islands that form an archipelago, albeit independently, forming tight bonds of respect and honour, and they are all better off that way.

Loneliness has no factor in this. The islands are by no means exclusive but invitational.

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